electromagnetic
a frequency sauna slowly
massaging your senses,
a silent weapon
breaking down your defences
a sensory resonance
untraceable from source,
prolonged exposure,
readjusts your composure,
perspective is dulled
through post processing
enhancement,
military grade application,
quiet war advancement,
electromagnetic,
inhibiting brain function,
nervous system paralysis,
through voiceless instruction
Saturday, 30 June 2018
Friday, 22 June 2018
Communication 116
dysphoria
I can see the stars above,
but I cannot feel the night,
I can see the new day rising
but I cannot feel its light,
the heat on my face,
the warmth on my skin,
such a beautiful affinity
my senses won’t let in,
I’ve lost the art,
to understand my heart,
I can feel it beating
but it’s just a spare part,
there’s a disconnect,
a lack of sensation
a chronic state of
derealization
I can see the stars above,
but I cannot feel the night,
I can see the new day rising
but I cannot feel its light,
the heat on my face,
the warmth on my skin,
such a beautiful affinity
my senses won’t let in,
I’ve lost the art,
to understand my heart,
I can feel it beating
but it’s just a spare part,
there’s a disconnect,
a lack of sensation
a chronic state of
derealization
Wednesday, 20 June 2018
Communication 115
regular viewer
there’s nothing to see here,
I have no questions, no inquiry,
I understand and believe what you see fit,
hand me the transcript
and I’ll recite it,
sell me the lie and I’ll buy it,
I have no intention to mention
the holes in your investigation
or the pitfalls of such legalisation,
just leave me the scraps
and I’ll welcomely devour,
I won’t fight back,
as you sit in your ivory tower,
choreographing the next citation,
misdirecting retaliation,
just hand me the transcript
and I’ll memorize it,
sell me the lie and I’ll buy it,
the rats have infested
the parliamentary sewer,
don’t mind me,
I’m just your regular viewer
there’s nothing to see here,
I have no questions, no inquiry,
I understand and believe what you see fit,
hand me the transcript
and I’ll recite it,
sell me the lie and I’ll buy it,
I have no intention to mention
the holes in your investigation
or the pitfalls of such legalisation,
just leave me the scraps
and I’ll welcomely devour,
I won’t fight back,
as you sit in your ivory tower,
choreographing the next citation,
misdirecting retaliation,
just hand me the transcript
and I’ll memorize it,
sell me the lie and I’ll buy it,
the rats have infested
the parliamentary sewer,
don’t mind me,
I’m just your regular viewer
Saturday, 16 June 2018
Communication 114
collateral damage
I don’t know why I’m here,
it remains a mystery
I wasn’t designed for such
mind numbing monotony,
the same old faces
haunt the same places,
monotone conversation
blunts my concentration
what’s it all about?
I just need my space,
without the fear of acid
being thrown in my face,
or a knife forced through my skin,
it’s all so overwhelming
where did it all go wrong?
what’s happening to me?
there’s a defect in the root
of our society
such a lack of opportunity
breeds a beast we can’t control,
austerity, a slight of hand
that continues to take its toll,
cuts to public services,
a chance to drain the swamp,
a bigger slice of pie
for the politicians to chomp
hold tight now
my sisters and brothers,
I know your hearts are aching,
something big is coming,
there’s a collision in the making,
a scripted execution
‘Problem, Reaction, Solution’
I’ve had about as much
as I can manage
your life, my life,
we’re just
collateral damage
I don’t know why I’m here,
it remains a mystery
I wasn’t designed for such
mind numbing monotony,
the same old faces
haunt the same places,
monotone conversation
blunts my concentration
what’s it all about?
I just need my space,
without the fear of acid
being thrown in my face,
or a knife forced through my skin,
it’s all so overwhelming
where did it all go wrong?
what’s happening to me?
there’s a defect in the root
of our society
such a lack of opportunity
breeds a beast we can’t control,
austerity, a slight of hand
that continues to take its toll,
cuts to public services,
a chance to drain the swamp,
a bigger slice of pie
for the politicians to chomp
hold tight now
my sisters and brothers,
I know your hearts are aching,
something big is coming,
there’s a collision in the making,
a scripted execution
‘Problem, Reaction, Solution’
I’ve had about as much
as I can manage
your life, my life,
we’re just
collateral damage
Friday, 8 June 2018
Communication 113
Consumer-ism
I’m tired of such saturation
your heart’s been removed
through commercialization,
the meaning’s lost under
rising cost,
a trend
transaction
an impulse reaction
pressed,
printed,
produced,
there’s just no getting
away from it,
cut,
pressed,
and made to fit
the ever growing
deficit
a car,
Rolex
or private jet,
the ego’s fed
your spiraling debt,
an addiction, a vice,
a roll of the dice,
just one more spin
for the big win
I’m tired of such saturation
your heart’s been removed
through commercialization,
the meaning’s lost under
rising cost,
a trend
transaction
an impulse reaction
pressed,
printed,
produced,
there’s just no getting
away from it,
cut,
pressed,
and made to fit
the ever growing
deficit
a car,
Rolex
or private jet,
the ego’s fed
your spiraling debt,
an addiction, a vice,
a roll of the dice,
just one more spin
for the big win
Labels:
brainwashing,
Consumer,
debt,
ego,
life,
loss,
lost,
mankind,
mind control,
Poems,
Poetry,
poetry blog,
wealth
Communication 112
Puppet ‘my malfunction’
it’s waking up, I can feel it rising
dangling fourth in the cutting line,
I count the chops as the bodies drop,
dormant, my malfunction
is a fault in my construction,
there are times when I fall,
I just can’t get up
as if my puppet strings
were cut,
there are times I freeze,
as if my bearings seize
so I’m forced to face this disease
head on, there is no guidance,
no puppeteer to help me balance,
self-taught, my train of thought
is as tangled as the strings that bind me,
my diagnosis is a fallacy,
filled with one liners,
and punch drunk antidotes,
I’m about a ‘section’ away from
the men in white coats
it’s waking up, I can feel it rising
dangling fourth in the cutting line,
I count the chops as the bodies drop,
dormant, my malfunction
is a fault in my construction,
there are times when I fall,
I just can’t get up
as if my puppet strings
were cut,
there are times I freeze,
as if my bearings seize
so I’m forced to face this disease
head on, there is no guidance,
no puppeteer to help me balance,
self-taught, my train of thought
is as tangled as the strings that bind me,
my diagnosis is a fallacy,
filled with one liners,
and punch drunk antidotes,
I’m about a ‘section’ away from
the men in white coats
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